Hide the Nickels

November 6, 2012 by ·

The U.S. election is finally coming to an end and, based on the comments on Facebook at least, I figure everyone could use a little levity. So this post isn’t about politicians, but it is about boobs. (I know, sort of the same thing. Still…)

First let me say that having a baby when you also have a four-year-old is fascinating. Connor tells me quite often that he knows all about babies and I don’t, but I don’t argue with him because (a) I certainly don’t know all about babies, so it would be silly to pretend I do, and (b) he likes to help, and who am I to say no to that? But sometimes his way of helping leaves me laughing.

When Ethan was born, Connor wanted to help feed him by giving him a bottle, because that’s how he thought babies were fed. That might be from books or TV, or it might be because he has been around when my twin nephews are being bottle fed. In any case, we explained to him that Ethan doesn’t have bottles yet but that I feed him, and that when Ethan does have a bottle he can help.

That was all well and good, but he wants to help NOW. Well, sure. Kind of awkward but we’ve figured out how to let him help – he can bring the nursing pillow and a receiving blanket, and in the early days when he wanted to be right in there I let him unsnap the clasp on my nursing bra. (He seems to have given that up now.)

nursing

Nursing baby, hidden nickels.

I have no qualms about breastfeeding in front of Connor. We’re not (yet?) keeping our nakedness hidden from him, and I wouldn’t worry about it with this anyway. It’s just feeding a baby. Yet somehow he knows there’s something sort of private about it.

It’s the nickels, you see. That’s what Connor calls nipples — I have no idea how that started but he obviously misheard and we’re horrible parents who think it’s too funny to correct him — and he’s quite concerned about making sure no one sees mine.

One day early on I was feeding Ethan in the car while we waited for Rich to run into a store. As I was getting ready a car pulled up next to us and, in an effort not to flash the male driver, I paused. Connor wanted to know why I was waiting, so I explained.

“Oh,” he said. “Because you don’t want him to see your nickels, right?”

Um, right.

Ditto in the mall last week, where he was extra helpful, announcing as we walked towards a lounge area that we need to find a place to feed Ethan where no one can see my nickels.

So much for being discreet.

Ah, four-year-olds. Gotta love ’em, right?

 

Filed Under: Conversations with Connor, Motherhood ·

The Newborn Dynamic

November 1, 2012 by ·

Well, Halloween’s over, which means it’s time to start getting ready for Christmas, right? We certainly have the weather for it.

But life trucks on, and we continue with the transition to being a family of four. Which, sometimes, is tough. I’ve got a post on Just.Be.Enough about that today and I’m sure many of you will relate. Come on over and hear how it’s going.

 

Comments closed. 

Filed Under: Motherhood ·

23 Days

October 25, 2012 by ·

newborn sleepingI believe the common wisdom is that if you can do something— exercise, resist a cigarette, eat your veggies — for 21 days it becomes a habit. I’m not sure this same logic applies to parenting newborns.

Today is day 23. 23 days of getting to know this sweet face. 23 days of baby noises and baby cuddles and sweet baby smells.

And 23 days of not enough sleep. 23 days of feeding every two to three hours. 23 days of spitting up and diapers.

I hardly remember what life was like before he was part of it. I can’t revert back to not knowing him. But I do remember what it was like before.

I think the 21-days rule works backwards with babies. After 21 days you do what you do not because it’s a habit but because it must be done. Instead of feeling like the new freedom of carefully chosen ritual it starts to feel a little bit like chains – there, tethered, rattling.

I’ve been sick for the past 10 days or so. Just a horrible cold (with some pink eye thrown in for good measure) but the most sick I’ve ever been. The timing, needless to say, has not been great.

I’ve reached the point where he wakes up at night and I think, No. I try not to look at the clock and calculate how much sleep I might get before the next feeding. I do think about when I last changed his diaper and wonder whether I really have to do it again.

The newborn nights are tired, but they come with the sounds of soft breathing and the weight of a silky head on my shoulder. In many ways the days are harder.

I don’t do well without a routine, and a routine is something we are decidedly lacking. If any habits are being formed here, they’re bad ones – trying to sneak in extra sleep in the mornings instead of accepting that daylight has come, choosing to lie down instead of eating, getting dressed in only the very loosest sense of the term.

I’m starting to feel better (please let this cough go away soon) and am trying to force myself to do things that will help me feel better. Yesterday’s walk in the snow with a snuggly baby in the carrier was good. Getting up to eat breakfast is now on each morning’s agenda. Finding things to play with Connor so he doesn’t get bored is important for my sanity.

I know there are things about this phase that are hard. But I also know it’s temporary.

After all, it’s only day 23.

Filed Under: Hard things, Motherhood · Tagged With: ,

Pride and Potential

October 19, 2012 by ·

Honour your children, they suggested. Share how they make you proud.

Easy peasy, as Connor likes to say. (He stole my expression.)

He’s always up for anything involving construction paper and crayons.

“What are you good at?” I asked.

He didn’t hesitate in his answer.

child with sign

I’m good at building LEGO.

He’s so good at LEGO it actually freaks me out a little bit. He’s going to be smarter than I am. He might be already. He’s good at a lot of things, but the confidence he gets from LEGO is a joy to see. He can do it well and he knows it. And I’m glad he knows it.

“What else are you good at?”

I thought his answer might be painting. (“I have paint all over my hands because I’m an artist like my dad,” he told me the other day.) Or baking. There are lots of things he could have chosen.

child with sign

I’m good at cleaning up my toys.

But he chose this. It’s his job and he does it (though he occasionally complains about it, and fair enough). But he does a darn good job of cleaning up his toys.

“What’s something about you that makes you really nice?” Last question.

child with sign

I help you change the baby.

He thought for a split second. Helping change the baby is not just something he likes to do, it’s something he does because he wants to be helpful. And I so admire that about him. He’s a really good big brother.

And then there’s the baby. What to say about the one I’ve only known for a couple of weeks but who has changed my worldview? If life is made up of a series of steps along a path leading us to who we are meant to be, he is a significant one in mine. In him lies so much potential.

newborn with sign

I’m brand new and full of potential.

Both for him and for me.

Filed Under: Happy things, Hello, Inspiration, Motherhood · Tagged With: , , , , , ,

No Longer Only

October 18, 2012 by ·

I have said, “Be gentle,” approximately 962 times in the last two weeks.

“Gently, please.”

“Do it gently.”

“C’mon, buddy. I really need you to be more gentle.”

Whatever form it takes, it’s tough to say and tough for him to hear.

It isn’t even usually related to Connor’s interactions with Ethan. C is pretty gentle with him, for the most part, though he does need to learn that there’s a time for patting the baby on the head and when he’s nursing isn’t really it, especially when it involves Connor climbing up on my lap to reach that little head.

No, it’s me he’s rough with. And Rich sometimes. And of course the long-suffering dog. Running jumps and flying leaps that are problematic for a mama with various sore body parts. Hitting because he’s excited or mad. Throwing things.

He’s bored, a little bit. We’re doing our best to combat that, but there’s bound to be a transition period and he’s smack-dab in the middle of it.

I feel bad for him. He so badly wants to help and be involved, and we’re letting him do all kinds of stuff. He’s the official diaper getter, wipe distributor, and nursing pillow finder. He takes the dirty diapers and throws them away before I’m even finished putting the new one on. He puts the soother back in, pulls Ethan’s hat up off his eyes and sings to him when he’s fussy.

He’s just the best darn big brother and I’m so, so proud of him.bathing-newborn

Last night we gave Ethan a bath, and Connor really wanted to help. But he’s just a bit too enthusiastic and after being redirected when he was splashing too much and asked to wait while Dad did some rinsing, he slunk off and turned on the TV. His head drooped and he sunk down into the couch cushions and I almost couldn’t bear it.

I went to sit with him and talk to him about how we want his help and how he’s doing such a good job, but he wouldn’t hear it.

“I’m not a good helper.”

And my mama heart broke wide open.

It’s hard to convincingly tell your biggest boy that he is a good helper when you’re crying like a hormonal mess, but I tried. I told him he was a really, really good helper and I’m so glad we have him and he’s just the best big brother we could hope for.

He’s just not our one and only anymore. And right now that’s tough for everyone.

Filed Under: Hard things, Motherhood · Tagged With: ,
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